Wishful Thinking
by Ayoshen
Summary: What's that? The sound of a wolf's paws behind you. You spring to attention and realize your only option is to run. Shameless Regina/Emma or Remma, as I lovingly call it. Or Regimma? Regimma sounds cool. Onesh- okay, no longer a oneshot.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** This fic was written directly after seeing episode 3 (Snow Falls), so anything that happens _after_ said episode and somehow clashes with this fic is well eh, not my fault. (I even tried to make the fic take place in as little time as possible to avoid this.) With that I must also warn you that there are some minor spoilers for episodes 1-3.

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><p>Walking down the road of shattered remnants of your life, trying to put the pieces together, you cover yourself with your arms. The night is cold and the haze of your breath in the air only immerses you in your thoughts more. All these new people, all these new faces and voices; you're not used to it and you doubt you can arrange them in the right order. Mary saw you frowning as you sat in the kitchen, sipping that delicious camomile tea of hers, and asked whether you wanted to talk about it. You declined the offer and walked outside to "get some fresh air". Still walking in the same general direction, you're not even sure you can find your way back by now, but you don't care. You need to think, and after all, it's not like you've ever had much of a home in your life, so who cares if you're on your own again for a while. You do better that way.<p>

You fail to realize you've entered the forest and are almost out of Storybrooke, until you trip and fall down on the floor of leaves, so unexpectedly torn out of your thoughts. You curse under your breath, get up with visible difficulty and brush leaves and dirt off your knees. Then you stand frozen. It's the wolf again. There it is, staring right through you as if you were a ghost. It growls and you don't think twice before running in the opposite direction.

It's still behind you. You can hear its paws hitting the ground in a periodic rhythm. You swear to keep yourself from looking back and immediately break the promise. It only takes this one time that you falter to stumble and fall and watch helplessly as the wolf's fangs dig into the calf of your leg. Frankly, you are too scared and focused to feel it, though, and you quickly grab a fallen branch and slam it on the wolf's head. It whimpers and takes a few steps back, glaring at you, its teeth sticking out like pearls in the sea of blue and black.

"Miss Swan!" You hear a voice calling out from behind you but can't look back. You can't get up, either. You can only fight.

Suddenly, bright light fills your vision. It's a torch; no, someone's waving a flaming branch in the animal's face. The wolf howls and runs off, and when the improvised torch is put out, you can make out the identity of your savior.

"Of course you would do that – run off, alone, who knows where in the middle of the night! You irrensponsible idiot! This isn't Boston, Miss Swan. You're lucky I was here to rescue your incompetent behind. Get up," Regina commands sternly and suddenly you feel like you understand Henry's situation a bit better.

You attempt to get up and wince in pain when you try to shift your weight on your right foot. You look down to see blood trickling down your leg and stifle a few choice words because having Regina around makes you feel like she would make you rinse your mouth with soap if you let them out. "How did you find me?" you inquire when you gather to courage to look her in the eye.

"I was returning home from my meeting with Mr. Hopper when I heard a cry coming from here. And _you're__ welcome_, by the way," she scoffs and shoots you a look, not bothering to help you get on your feet the least bit.

You frown at that; you have no recollection of crying out. "So why didn't you just let it kill me when you saw it was me? It's not like we're BFF's," you mutter, ignoring her remark.

You're now both walking – well, she's walking, you're limping – back into town, which is closer than you thought. She looks genuinely shocked. "You really think that of me? Please, Miss Swan, I'm not _too_ fond of you, but I am by no means trying to get you killed."

"Well, you _did_ have me arrested. _Multiple __times,_" you scoff. "Doesn't take a genius to figure out you'd rather have me out of the way."

She sighs and throws her hands up in the air. "Fine! You got me. The only reason I saved you was so I could bewitch you, spirit away your memories and make you my faithful servant."

You freeze on the spot, not entirely sure where exactly the sarcasm begins and where it ends.

Regina doesn't seem to notice your uncertainty and continues. "I need to get the Sheriff to get rid of that beast," she says to herself.

"Yeah. Yeah, that would be nice," you respond and shake your head at your stupidity. Now you owe her. Oh damn. It's like you've sold your soul to the devil.

She leads you all the way to the hospital and gets ready to part ways with you when you realize something. "You know, your job ended back there. You could have let me get here on my own; I've been here before," you tell her and refuse to stop a grin from forming on your face.

"With your _impeccable_ sense of orientation, you would probably wind up in _my_ bed instead and I'd have to nurse you to health myself," she narrows her eyes at you to make it clear she would also make you pay for all the expenses.

"Wishful thinking?" you reply, grinning from ear to ear like a child who is waiting for their teacher to sit on that farting pillow.

"I beg your pardon!" Regina's jaw drops so low you think she's going to have to pick it off the ground. "It's enough I take the time to help Henry when something happens—there's no way I'd ever break my back for—you!"

"Uh-huh," you mumble, still smiling and slowly disappearing behind the door. "Good night, Mayor. Don't worry, I'll be back soon for some more apples. Thanks, by the way!"

You can still see her rolling her eyes at you in exasperation. "Good night, Miss Swan. I'm counting on it."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's**** Note:** I did not intend for this to be a multi-chapter story, but sweet crepes of Jesus did you see the sneak peek for 1x04? Regina was eye-raping her the WHOLE DAMN TIME! -hyperventilates- I must write more. It is my sacred duty to do so. I don't care that -censored due to spoilers-, Regina knows she'll get her, period. So, without further ado, let's help her get there, shall we?

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><p>You're bored. Even the shameless simplicity of the aforementioned, bare sentence bores you to death. You kept telling them you were fine, but Dr. Whale insisted you stay overnight and till the evening to make sure the wound isn't infected, and now you find yourself in bed directly below John Doe's – er, David's – hospital room. A voice at the back of your mind tells you Regina must have called him and arranged your imprisonment, and is probably plotting how to keep Henry as far as possible from you at this very moment, even though you know that in reality, the night is still young and both of them are sound asleep.<p>

You called Mary and told her about the incident, leaving out the part about Regina saving your ass. You didn't want to acknowledge her help, but you didn't want to make yourself look like some kind of a wolf-slaying hero either (Oh God, if Henry ever finds out, you're never going to be able to convince him you're not lifting any curses anytime soon!), so you decided the perfect way to end the story was during the hitting-wolf-with-whatever-was-close-enough phase. It's not like you were lying. You just didn't mention the _other_ reason it ran off.

Mary said she would come check up on you in the morning. She didn't even give you a chance to protest and you feel like sulking a little as you sink under the covers. Stupid Regina and her stupid plans and her stupid wolf – _her_ stupid wolf? Well, that could as well be the case! She might have somehow sent it after you for all you care.

_ "__You __really __think__ that __of__ me? __Please, __Miss __Swan, __I'm __not _too _fond __of__ you, __but __I__ am__ by __no __means __trying __to __get __you __killed.__"_

If she was being honest, then the wolf would have only given her an opportunity to play the knight in shining armor. You close your eyes and try to focus on falling asleep before you overthink it all – which you know you already did.

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><p>When you wake up, it's light outside. Mary Margaret is sitting in a chair beside you, sipping latte macchiato from one of those brown plastic cups that instantly tell you the beverage inside was purchased from a vending machine. "Morning," she greets you when she notices you shift in the bed.<p>

"Don't you have to teach or something?" you grumble, slightly annoyed that she didn't take the hint and stay home instead.

She sets the cup on the nightstand and smiles. "It's half past two in the afternoon. You slept like a baby. You can have some if you want," she says and points to the coffee. You give her a grateful nod, sit up and take the cup, noticing she's barely drunk anything. "The Mayor was here to check up on you earlier." She regrets those words immediately.

You nearly spill the coffee all over yourself and start coughing uncontrollably. Tears threaten to well up in your eyes and you only manage an inaudible "What?" before there's no air in your lungs again.

"Well, not exactly 'check up' check up; I saw her in the hallway, but when she saw you were still asleep and I was here as well, she shot me a look, turned on her heel and left," Mary shrugs and holds the coffee for you before you hurt yourself. "I wonder how she knew you were here."

Oh good, she didn't talk to her then. The lie is still intact. "That is beyond me," you reply with feigned confusion. "Maybe she wasn't here because of me. Maybe it's something about D—" You realize you shouldn't go there, or at least not this soon. "—dsome other patient." You think she can see you almost slipped there, but she appreaciates the cover-up and your silent apology. At least you hope she does. But maybe it's just wishful thinking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** I'm making this up as I go. It's not even going to make sense in about two chapters ago. I don't even. I just have an insatiable urge to ship them in any way I can. Your reviews are doing this to me, they are indeed. I love you guys. :) (Being the captain of the ship certainly has its privileges, eh?)

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><p>Sweet, sweet taste of freedom! You already feel intoxicated with it, even if it's been mere seconds since the doctor said yes to your gajillionth plea and constant nagging. You leap out of the bed and know it was a bad idea even before your feet hit the ground and a sharp pang goes all the way up through your leg. It's the first time you can really feel the wound and now that Regina's not around, at least you feel free to finally drop the long awaited f-bomb. It helps a little. You notice the nurse's raised eyebrow and pout.<p>

Blah blah blah, change the bandage once every three days, blah blah blah, it's gonna be fine by the end of the week. No stress. Boldly, you step out the front door like Popeye the Sailor after his daily dose of spinach. As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you look around at the townsfolk to see if there's anyone carrying a bucket full of a certain dreaded leafy vegetable. Not like you're actually expecting someone to pop up. Heh, pop up.

You were supposed to have lunch with Mary and Henry at Granny's today, but you feel that after the John Doe incident, those plans were cancelled long ago. You smirk when you realize you're still wearing Regina's shirt underneath that jacket. Proving a point? Who, you? Psh, not by a longshot. Having the only item on your to-do list removed, you decide to head to Henry's castle and pretend you're a beautiful, classy, educated princess with dozens of admirers at the gates for a minute, even though you don't really take care of yourself, you're about as classy as a proletarian, and you dropped out of high school when you got pregnant. Then again, none of these things stopped you from living your life the way you want, so why complain? And then yet again, some of these things contributed to Henry being here. You can live with that.

This is also the only place you can be sure never to see Regina near. Henry would never give away the location of the Cobra headquarters, and there's a slight chance he might show up himself. You're not afraid, just cautious. You hate having to be grateful to people. You hate the feeling in your gut that tells you whatever you do, there will always be more to repay. Repay _her_, no less. Oh man, you're royally screwed, so screwed. You rub the bridge of your nose as you sit in the wooden tower and wait for the rain to wash away your shame.

The next day, you think you can catch up with Henry after school; unfortunately, as soon as he runs out of the building in a sea of little heads at the level of your waist, a black-haired figure appears out of nowhere and grabs his hand. As soon as they see you, Henry breaks free and runs towards you, with Regina following close behind. You clench your jaw. There goes your wishful thinking.

"Hey, kid," you greet the boy with a weak smile. The poor kid is clueless and you can see the wheels spinning in his head as he's getting ready to explain how the annoying kid in his class is actually Rapunzel's great-great-granddaughter or something.

"Good afternoon, Miss Swan. It's so good to see you so soon after that little _mishap __of __yours,_" she says with evident bitterness in her voice and that I'm-just-plain-better-than-you grin on her face. "How is your leg, Red?"

Oh, seriously, she went there? For some reason, you doubt there's an actual spark of concern anywhere behind those words, Henry glances at your leg and sees you're supporting yourself against the fence. "Did something happen to you?" he asks suspiciously and you can't help but smile at how cute he is when he's worried, even if there's no reason to. Then he looks at Regina and corrects her. "She's not the Red Riding Hood! That's the waitress from Granny's!"

You ruffle his hair and clear your throat. "Well, since you're obviously so concerned about my well-being, I'll gladly assure you that I'm better than ever."

"Henry, be a sweetie and give us a minute, alright?" she sends him off. The boy walks a few steps before turning to you for help and you give him a reassuring nod. "I have some business to tend to at the moment, but I want you to stop by my house tonight."

It feels like your eyebrows jumped all the way up to the sky. No 'please' or 'would you mind', just 'I want you to stop by my house _tonight_.' And you're the one who's 'incessantly rude'? What if you had plans? Oh, who are you kidding. "'Scuse me? Why?"

"Well, you've made it clear you won't be returning to Boston anytime soon. I thought it would be appropriate for me to make you feel more comfortable in town. More _home,_ so to speak," she answers and walks away without another word.

What is it with these people and their irritating habit of not giving you a chance to speak? Seriously! You would shout something at her back, but you realize she knows as much as you do that you're going to appear on her doorstep in several hours' time. Well, she wasn't too polite about it, but it's not like a little chat and a glass of (delicious, you must admit) apple cider can hurt, right? You have things to discuss, anyway. Best of luck to you, Red.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** This chapter took me much more time because OpenOffice has, apparently, decided to wage war with me. ...To which I, after hours of trying to get it to work properly, said "screw you" and returned to my true love, Microsoft Word. I have learned my lesson and will never abandon it again. I love you with all my heart, Word. I just wanted you to know that. ;_; ...So yeah, this chapter kind of reflects my feelings about OO ticking me off. (Hint: Angst.) I still have no idea where I'm going with this. Be warned, as there's OOCness ahead.

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><p>You don't know what to expect as you stand on the front porch and hesitate to ring the bell. It's Regina, after all. You're one hundred percent certain she's up to something, but you can't put your finger on what potential harm could lie in an innocent conversation, as long as Henry's not present. But by now, and judging by the darkness in his room that you can see when you look up, Henry has been tucked in and is sound asleep, unless he's hiding in the wardrobe, waiting for you to walk into Regina's office. Then again, he should have no idea. He doesn't. You feel relieved when your brain reminds you that she is still treating him like a mother treats a child, though she is insensitive to his feelings. You don't think that overprotectiveness makes her evil. It's the yearning for absolute truth to be on her side at all times, disregard the consequences, that makes her evil.<p>

In the end you resort to a tentative knock. It only takes a second for her to open and invite you in. The Mayor's house is like a lion's den. It's huge and everywhere you look, you can see her; in the bear hide on the floor and the stairway spiraling upward; in countless old books, neatly arranged in numerous bookshelves with not even a speck of dust around the edges. It's tidy, meticulous and predatory and it makes you uncomfortable. When things seem too perfect, it's time to rip the disguise apart and find out the reason they are, in fact, rotten to the core. You're here to do that, you remind yourself. There has to be a reason, and you can deal with reasons much better than the results.

First of all, you should probably deal with the reason why you're here. Scientific curiosity? Maternal instincts? Maybe a mixture of both. Or maybe there's something else too.

The two of you sit down opposite one another in the very same room you found yourself in the first time Henry brought you to Storybrooke. Instead of cider, she offers you some quality white wine and you gladly accept, because you've got a hunch it's going to be a long night. It feels awkward, to say the least. You should probably say something, but you're at loss of words.

Fortunately, Regina seems to have this whole conversation planned; no doubt down to your every response and reaction. You don't know what she expects, but you know she does. "Miss Swan, I am going to be honest with you. I know why you came here; I don't blame you. It's what any decent person would have done. What escapes me is why you refuse to _leave_."

Not exactly how you imagined this starting. You really don't feel like explaining this all over again. More importantly, you can't fathom why the issue needs explaining. This woman's thinking on an entirely different frequency than you are, it seems.

"Don't get me wrong, I know you care about Henry. He's a bright young man, and we both know he has a way of worming into people's hearts," she continues and pride is virtually resonating from her. "But you didn't care ten years ago, so why begin now?"

She narrows her eyes at you and you grit your teeth. This is but a cleverly phrased insult to both you and Henry. "Madam Mayor, it really isn't your place to judge me and tell me what I did or didn't." You know where this is going, but you keep your cool. She's not worth getting worked up for.

"You left him, knowing someone like me would eventually come along and accept him as their own, and you didn't even stop to think about who that person was going to be. Henry could have been much less lucky, but at least your ignorance delivered him to me," she spits and her words sting like poison and she's not worth it, she's not worth it, she _is just not worth it_. "And now you are trying to tear him away from his true family, from the place he has roots in, where he is loved and looked after. Do you have any idea how cruel you are?"

"How cruel _I am_?" You're about _this_ close to getting up and punching her in the face. She's turning it all upside down. You only get past the getting up part. So does she. _"How cruel I am? _I'm not the one who's trying to convince him his _mother_ thinks the worst of him and is trying to hurt him. You can't even begin to imagine how much of an impact this has on a ten year old child!"

"And I presume you're going to tell me all about it." She crosses her arms over her chest defensively, but her voice is cool as ice and if you had time to think about it, in comparison, it would make you think you need to sign up for anger management lessons with Mr. Hopper.

"I never found _my_ parents! I grew up believing my whole life was a mistake of such epic proportions they wanted me dead from the very beginning! I never had a home, I never had a _single_ person who cared, I've always made my own breakfast, I've always taken myself to the doctor, I've always given myself Christmas presents because no one wanted to be friends with the kid from the freeway! Henry, on the other hand, has at least two people who love him, which for some reason seems to be a crime in this town. Didn't you wonder, for just a little while, _why_ he would run away and look for me?" You know the answer, but still you half expect her to cut you off. Instead, she stares at you, surprised by your sudden outburst. "Because that's all he ever wanted! What would _you_ do to get what you wish for?"

All of a sudden, you're standing right in front of her, engaging in a fierce battle in whose glare can pierce the other faster, your chest is heaving, your cheeks burning, your fists clenched and you're not sure whether you want to perform a first grade war cry and kick her sorry ass or go curl up in a corner. You realize the first is not really an option, because no matter what you think of her, you're sure that deep down, Henry likes her. That's the only thing that keeps you from doing something you might regret. She has an unreadable, absentminded expression, like she's trying hard to remember something.

Then it dawns on you. How, for all that's sacred, could you be so stupid? This is what she was anticipating and you didn't know. She brought you here to get valuable information out of you, to hurt you. She figured if she couldn't make you disappear, she could at least make you miserable, and you walked right into her trap like a meek little lamb. Or worse, she was trying to rub in all the things Henry has that you don't, so that you envy him, envy your own son. She _wanted you_ to tell her all about it.

All your rage is gone. You've lost. You've lost because you stubbornly refused to believe there was no good in this woman, and you can only see now that you were wrong. "How can you live with yourself," you whisper, grab your jacket off the couch and head straight for the door.

"Emma!" she calls out to you, but you don't listen. She has no right to call you Emma. She has no right to call you anything at the moment.

"You'll be back," she says, although coming from her, it sounds more like wishful thinking.

You turn to her one last time. "No, I won't."

Henry's castle it is.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **I am so high on writing this and I'm having so much fun with it. (The World Dreams With You, I wish you were this awesome to write. But worry not, I'll get back to you. You're still my baby. Though mommy and mommy are a little mad at one another right now, it doesn't mean we've stopped loving each other.)** Thank you so very much for all the reviews! **Much appreciated. As you can see, they make me work a lot faster. -hint hint- ;)

Oh, one more thing; for some reason, I've decided it's Fall in the fic. It took me this long to realize it's probably not that cold in Storybrooke, but what the hell, this is fanfiction. Fall is good for angst.

YAY FOR LESBIAN ANGST! Who's with me?

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Why can't she be like everyone else in Storybrooke? Why is she the only one who won't obey me? There is no compliance, and she's bound to fall if she doesn't learn her place.

_ "How can you live with yourself," she whispers and I can barely hear her. My blood runs cold. I don't know the answer to any of her questions, much less this one, and I'm losing my ground._

_ She walks down the stairs and I follow. "Emma!" I yell louder than necessary, but she can't leave now. It is most peculiar. Everyone else drinks in my every word, even if their hearts ache, even if I hurt their very soul, and I know I'm capable of doing that. I can tell Mary Margaret the fairytales she's using to mess with my son's mind are pathetic and that she's useless as a teacher. I have. I can threaten Archie Hopper and tell him I will make sure he never has a job again if Henry doesn't come back to me as the loving boy he once was. I have done that, too. It gets me where I want to be. With Emma, it doesn't… click. I don't… I don't think I want to hurt her, do I? Would that be a good thing?_

_ "You'll be back," I try to reassure myself. She can't leave._

_ "No, I won't," she replies and slams the door shut behind her._

Henry doesn't need to know anything. When he woke up and we had breakfast, I asked him where his castle was. His jaw dropped and he looked at me like I was the Loch Ness monster, but I'm not completely ignorant. I've seen the drawings in his room. Most recently the one of the same structure with a little boy and a blonde woman sitting on its wooden base. He is a clever boy, though; he tried to pretend he didn't know what I was talking about. I told him it was about _Emma_ and that I needed to know. He immediately confessed and showed me the way. I think me referring to her by her first name (or any name, for that matter) got through to him. Maybe, just maybe, I'm not as much of an evil witch now, or maybe I, too, have become a victim of wishful thinking after all. God, that phrase has been getting on my nerves ever since she said it that night. _Wishful thinking._ Oh please.

My assumption was correct; I find her asleep in the tower, leaning her head on the fence and hugging her knees. She must have been here all night; her face is as pale as snow and dark circles under her eyes make her look older and worn somehow, like she's Sleeping Beauty and has been sitting here for a hundred years, forgotten. Why, all this talk about fairytales is getting to me.

I figured she would be the type; the one who storms off vowing revenge and ends up counting grains of sand on the beach until she loses track of time and doesn't even notice that she went from sand to sheep and then to each flag of each tower of each medieval fortress in dream land, which then blurs and becomes a sandcastle in the sand, only to begin the whole cycle all over again. I wonder how many sandcastles there have been today. Of course she would never cry, not even in her dreams, because big girls don't cry.

I kneel next to her and notice one end of the bandage sticking out from under her jeans. She must have kept herself busy playing with it. "Miss Swan," I whisper quietly so as to not wake her up too abruptly. I shouldn't call her Emma. I probably shouldn't call her Miss Swan either, but I have to choose one, don't I?

She flinches and gives me the death glare – which frankly doesn't look as threatening as it would if she wasn't concentrating so much on keeping her eyes open – as soon as she realizes it's me who woke her up. "Go away," she spits and tries to mask the fact that she's shivering from the cold.

"You should get that checked out," I note, nodding towards her leg. I doubt she's listening to a word I say. It frustrates me how someone with so much potential just _doesn't listen_.

"Look, I know what you're going to say; that I'm not responsible or mentally stable enough to be a parent, that I'm setting a bad example for Henry, that I'd use him to cure my complexes and whatnot. I probably need to hear all that, but right now, just go away," she says and averts her gaze from me.

"It's not about Henry," is the only thing I manage to utter. I want to tell her that's not what I think at all. I want to tell her I'm sorry, I truly do. But I can't. No matter how hard I try, my mouth is half open, but the words just don't come out. It's the simplest of all things, simpler than a 'good morning', but I _cannot_ say it. I hate it when this happens.

"Oh really? What is it about then, _Madam Mayor?_"

I can't help but feel like she's mocking me. I'm still trying to say it. Come on, Regina, it's not that hard. Well, it's not like I've done it before, but everyone else has. _I'm sorry._ It's no use. I can't. I just can't. I can deal with anything, but a simple collocation has me here on my knees. If that's not pitiful, I don't know what is. "I can _make you_ go see the doctor if you keep behaving worse than our prepubescent offspring," I hiss after I've given up. Wait, what did I say? Did I say _'our'_? I might have said 'our'. I can't remember. No, no, I'm sure I said 'my'; I'm not the sharing type. I shake off the thought.

"Try me."

Argh – did she just – God darn it, how obnoxious she is! _I'm sorry, listen to me, just get up and stop your desperate pilgrimage to the faraway kingdom of Pneumonia, for Pete's sake._ That's what I would say if I could, but I can't. I can't just leave her here, though. Henry would never look me in the eye again. For Henry, I have to do this for Henry. Just for Henry. Even though he doesn't need her when he has me. He'll understand sooner or later. Why am I doing this again?

Come to think of it, he is _so_ much easier to deal with. With an internal sigh, I take off my fur coat and wrap it around her shoulders. She'd better stop glaring at me now; that was expensive.

Rest assured, she does. Now she's frowning and it looks like that moment when you are a child and your mother tells you not to accept candy from strangers for the first time. Why would you return candy? Nonsense. Candy's great! "Why?" she asks and it's obvious what she means. And does that include lollipops? What if they're nice to me? But it's just a chocolate bar, mom!

"Because I mean it," I say because I know that will do the trick. Even though she despises me, she wouldn't let her comfort come at my expense. I'm right. Feelings and compassion make her weak, make her subject and do my bidding. It is the last resort that counts for them all, but it's always the key.

_I'm sorry._

I can't.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **This has to be my favorite chapter. Mom!Mary Margaret is pretty much the best thing that's ever happened to this world and if she's ever at least similar to this on the show, I will die happy. Have some adorableness to balance out the angst and why do I always think I'm writing the last chapter and at the end I realize... nope, there will be more. Every single time. Oh well. _Reviews are love._

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><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

You run back to Mary's with your tail between your legs like the foolish coward you are. You don't want to admit that your debt to them both is steadily rising, but it's the truth, and you mentally slap yourself for letting it come this far. How did Regina find you, anyway? Henry wouldn't tell her, unless she cast a spell on him. Humph. She seemed different than the night before, though; she didn't actually say or do anything to offend you and that confuses you more, because you highly doubt it was because your rosy demeanor had made its leave.

Mary scolds you for not even letting her know where you were for almost two days and you hang your head in shame because you know you deserve it. You forgot about her completely as soon as you stepped over the threshold of Regina's pseudomanor. She insists on fixing the bandage for you and when you open your mouth to protest, you're quickly silenced by a look that invokes a picture of yourself alone in a dark dungeon in you. With rats. A man-eating kind. Everywhere.

"So are you going to tell me what happened?" she asks as she treats your leg and sprays antiseptic over the wound. It stings and burns and you bite your lower lip but you've long ago stopped being a child who would wince. Mary isn't a volunteer at the hospital for no reason.

"Regina happened," you answer and shrug, hoping you've met the requirements for Mary to leave the matter at rest.

"Regina happened long ago. Did she have you arrested again? Did you do something?"

"What? Why should I be the one who did something?" you ask with a frown. How did she even come to this conclusion?

"Because when you do something, you run," is the answer, plain and simple.

You raise an eyebrow at her. "And how would you know that?"

"So you're not denying it?" she looks up at you and once again you reassure yourself that what you're sitting on is just a step and not the cold stone floor of a dungeon.

"I'm not confirming it," you mutter and decide that speaking of floors, the one in this house is a perfect object to look at right now just so you can admire the… tidiness… and stuff.

She finishes bandaging your leg and motions for you to sit down at the kitchen table. Before you know it and without asking for it, a mug is placed in front of you on the table filled with tea, complete with a spoonful of milk. It's a habit of yours to add some to your tea from time to time. Milk softens the flavor to a pleasant degree without sweetening it, but not enough for you to think you need cereal to get anything from it. You take the mug in your hands and absorb the warmth from it. It's a nice transition after a night out in the open.

"She invited me to her house yesterday," you say and take a sip. The liquid seeps into your body and its presence makes you feel more at peace and less alone. Or maybe it's Mary herself; you can't be sure.

"Why did you go?" she asks and you're not even that surprised that she knows you did. Mary seems to know everything these days. You just wish she would dig up the rest of the answers herself so you don't have to do it for her.

"I thought she'd grown a brain," you shrug.

"And she didn't?"

"She told me I was cruel and ignorant."

"Why would you believe that?"

"I never said I belie—"

She smiles; it's the kind of smile that people have when they know more than you do and they're amused by your inability to see it. You don't like it. "Yes, because the way you're tracing what you think are circles but are actually double-crossed capital R's on the table with your fingertips with that look on your face that my students have when I catch them cheating didn't give you away at all," she cuts you off, obviously finding your embarrassment entertaining as you quickly look at your hand and jerk away. "What happened next?"

You make sure you're not doing anything else you're not aware of before continuing. "I asked her how she could live with herself and left for the castle. I kind of fell asleep in there," you finish and hope she doesn't figure out there's more to it than you say.

"And?"

Fine, fine, you grit your teeth, there is more to it. "She came there in the morning and woke me up. Tried to get me to go to the hospital. When I wouldn't listen, she put her coat on my shoulders. I didn't want her to be cold," you mumble the last sentence almost inaudibly and pray to God this is enough. No more interrogation, please. You haven't felt this uncomfortable in ages, but you can't tell her to go to hell because you are in her house, after all.

Mary nods knowingly and drinks a bit of her own tea. "Want to hear my diagnosis?"

The tone of her voice makes you cringe and certain you're not going to like this, either. "…Yes?" you say because you know she's going to say it whether you like it or not.

"She likes you," Mary says matter-of-factly as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

You open your mouth, then close it, then open it again, then you frown and point your finger at the ceiling for no real reason and blink at least three times to make sure you're not imagining things. "Excuse me? In what universe does insulting me and putting me in jail and making people turn against me and countless death glares and all the other things she's done that I can't remember at the moment equal 'she likes you'?" you blurt out in one breath. "Wha-what do you even mean _likes me_?" You are one very confused bail bondsperson and can barely believe your own eyes and ears.

"You're looking at the results, Emma, not the reasons." You're instantly reminded of the promise you made to yourself when you walked into her house. You were there to fix the reasons. "She's lonely. Henry is the only one she has. Of course she's going to be cold to you when you spend more time with him than she does."

"So you're suggesting I should spend more time with them both," you deduce and raise a suspecting eyebrow at her. "She _hates_ me."

"She came back for you, didn't she?"

"Well, yeah but—"

"She did nothing to hurt you then, or did she?"

"No, but—"

"There goes your answer," Mary smiles triumphantly and you think you can almost see Sherlock's hat on top of her head. "She knows she's crossed a line. She was trying to fix it."

"It certainly didn't look like it," you mutter and stare into the mug in your hands. "Look, I appreciate the help, but this is ridiculous. Don't you think you're trying a bit too hard to turn her motives around so that it looks like there's a speck of good in her?" you ask and imitate her all-knowing smile.

"Don't _you_ think you're trying a bit too hard not to?" she replies.

You shake your head. Of course you're not. It's ridiculous to even suggest that. Whatever Mary sees in Regina, it's just wishful thinking. You drink the rest in silence and disappear behind the door to your room.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

You close your eyes for just a minute and when you open them again, it's Sunday. You're lying in bed, contemplating what to do with the day – in other words, trying to put off seeing Regina for as long as possible. Mary is going to go see an exhibition on French modern art in the gallery soon and asks whether you want to come. You politely decline; you don't care much for art in general. It's a luxury of people who can afford to express themselves – and get paid and renowned for it while dust piles up on the stencil drawings back in your apartment, where you might as well never return.

Besides, you have things to think about. Or more like one shamelessly controlling, tactless, inconsiderate, jealous b-thing. It becomes harder and harder to ignore the voice in your head repeating you should go thank her, even though you don't really know what you should thank her for in the first place. Lonely Regina. Humph. Imagine that. If she's so terrified of being left alone, slashing in all directions isn't exactly going to prevent that, yet the more you think about it, the more sense it makes.

_ "True love won out. So bask in the moment, dear."_

It's the only time you can remember her smiling, not in the better-than-you way, but actually smiling like when something good happens and it makes you feel all warm and fuzzy and you suddenly want to snuggle a stray Yorkshire puppy. But there was something else in her eyes, too. A tint that said _'since it is a treasure most people never find'_. So you gave her a resigning nod. _'Yeah.'_ It was the only time you acknowledged the truth was on her side.

You need to see it for yourself. As soon as Mary's out the door, so are you, heading straight for the Mayor's house. Hopefully she's not home. Hopefully, she has some kind of a super important meeting and you will soon be able to come back to Mary's with the item on your to-do list scratched out marked as 'tried that, didn't work'.

You open the gate and keep walking, wondering whether having come this far can count as 'trying'. You decide it's not a valid argument and ring the doorbell. You wait for seconds, glancing over your shoulder to see whether the path back has vanished yet or is still teasing you. It's there. You can turn around and walk away, but you don't. Even if you wanted to, it would be already too late, because there Regina is, leaning on the door frame. You must have disturbed her from filling out paper work or something. She looks puzzled. Apparently she expected you to show up as much as you expected to end up here.

She doesn't give away her suspicion and invites you in with that signature smile of hers and suddenly a way back looks like great idea, but of course, now that its time has come, it's no longer there. You bite your lip and stand still on the doormat. "I just wanted to say thank you. For, uh…" Right, you don't know the reason. You can't deal with the reason if you don't know what it is. "For the trouble," you mutter in the end and nod as if assuring yourself this is the most neutral thing to say and you fail to realize what just came out of your mouth makes no sense in the English language; or at least not the sense you want it to make.

You feel like you're annoying her and that's never a good sign. "I should go," you say and half turn to leave, concentrating on the pain in your leg because it's _something else_ and that's always good.

"Emma," she calls out to you and you stop dead in your tracks. "Come in," she repeats more quietly and waits for you to muster up the courage and come back to her. You scold yourself for acting like a nervous child. You've proven you can confront her anytime about anything. You inhale deeply, getting the fresh air to comfort you before you step into the lion's den again. You know what they say – fool her once… Wait, how did it go again?

You close the door behind you and look at her. Neither of you knows what to say. You're not sure how long you've been standing here, but you feel safest looking into her eyes and trying to see if there's any foundation to what Mary said.

_"I don't think that makes me evil, do you?"_

This whole ordeal must be damaging your 'badass' reputation, because you're pretty sure you look like a lost blue jay in the hands of a PETA officer. You can hear yourself breathing and it doesn't exactly help the situation because you're not sure how fast time is going and therefore how quick your breathing is and you're overthinking it so much but then again that guy Einstein had a theory quite relevant to your interests there.

_ "It's entirely possible to get lost here. It's entirely possible for bad things to happen."_

You take one step closer, even though calling it a whole step is probably an overstatement. You never noticed how short you are compared to her. You smirk on the inside; it must be the heels.

_ "Because not having someone, well…" _

Before you realize it, your hands are on her waist and you're pulling yourself closer. Hey, she invited you in; now she'll have to face the consequences. A sly smile appears on your lips; for once, you have the advantage.

"_That's the worst curse imaginable."_

You close your eyes and your lips brush against hers. A hypothesis is just a theory that hasn't been tested yet.

_ "You're looking at the results, Emma, not the reasons."_

You're not entirely surprised to feel her kiss you back at this point, her hands on your hips. You've grown accustomed to this town and you've learned to expect the unexpected. Then again, it's not like Regina was _that_ unpredictable to begin with.

Maybe, just maybe, you can redeem the Evil Queen. Maybe it's a reflection of your wishful thinking.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> So yeah, that's a wrap. I don't even care this was originally a oneshot, that's a wrap :) I'm sorry if it didn't go out with a bang or didn't make much sense overall. The point is my shippery soul is satisfied and demands more incharge!Emma. I really needed to have this fic finished before tomorrow because it's set after episode 3 and a feeling in my gut tells me that tomorrow, something that will disrupt the entire continuity of this fic will happen. (Like Regina tapping that. Hard. COUGH) So yeah. Now... Now I should probably go on with my life or something, LOL. Enjoy this fic, because that's all you're getting. ;))) -hint hint-


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